


Found Things

by Luraia



Series: Lost and Found [2]
Category: Mary Poppins (Movies)
Genre: Car Accidents, F/M, Hurt Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 12:11:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17662400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luraia/pseuds/Luraia
Summary: The Banks family are getting ready to go on a picnic.  Except Jack isn't really Uncle Jack...yet.  And then there is the accident, and maybe he won't ever be Uncle Jack, and how much more tragedy does the Banks family have to face?





	Found Things

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo...I fully intended to let 'Lost Things' be a stand-alone, only apparently I couldn't leave it alone, so here's the flip side of that story. Technically, you can read them in either order, but I'm going to set them up as a series in the order I wrote them.

The day started off quite well.

In the first place, Georgie had a new ball all of his very own and no one else’s.  It wasn’t even his birthday, or something of that sort.  It was a gift from Father.  Usually, special treats were for all three of the children, like pocket money for ice cream or small trinkets Father picked up on the way home from work while thinking about them, but every once in a while, he’d show up just with a blue ribbon for Annabel, or with an old coin that could be a pirate’s doubloon just for John, and he’d say, ‘Today is Annabel’s day’ or ‘Today is John’s day’.  And the children never really begrudged their sibling the special attention, because they all knew _their_ day was coming.  And today was Georgie’s day, and it was a blue ball, and there could not have been a happier child in all the world over a gift, not even had the gift been made of gold and worth ten times as much.

Michael, perhaps, had not entirely thought it through when he’d given his youngest a ball.  Georgie was, of course, already a bundle of energy, and throwing a ball into the mix was asking for calamity.  If he’d thought about it at all, he’d have thought the worst would be the breaking of something valuable but useless.

In fact, what happened was a very near miss with a very old lamp.  It was a hardy lamp; it had survived years of the Admiral’s canon blasts, and it had survived many wild romps, but it very nearly did not survive the combined calamity of Georgie in pursuit of a very contrary ball that insisted on bounding away down the stairs instead of staying in his hands.

It was only just saved by Ellen, who showed surprising dexterity considering more than one dish had been lost lately at her hands, but then, she did have years of experience in protecting the lamp.

And Michael was not cross, exactly, in fact said, “I suppose this is my own fault,” and even laughed, but he had that sort of sad look that still made the children feel horrible.  Ellen was a bit less kind over it, and called Georgie a “Rampaging elephant”.   Either way, the end of the matter was that they were asked to wait for Jane and Jack _outside_.

And of course, that was the other wonderful thing about that day, because there was going to be a picnic, and the whole family was going to be there, including Aunt Jane and Uncle Jack.  The only very tiny minor cloud might have been that, technically, Uncle Jack wasn’t _really_ their uncle…yet.

Annabel and John discussed this on the front step while Georgie pretended he was an elephant; an elephant who had a wonderful new ball to do tricks with.

“And I don’t know why Aunt Jane won’t ask Jack properly,” Annabel said with a sigh.  Her brother was perhaps not quite as invested in the conversation.  He had his eye on his brother’s ball.  And perhaps it was a small child’s toy and he wasn’t a small child, and it was Georgie’s day, not his, but, perhaps Georgie might want to play pass with him…in a bit.  Perhaps they could make a game of it when Uncle Jack got there.  Uncle Jack was good at games, and he made even babyish things seem fun and grown up and he was good at getting Father and Aunt Jane to join in.  But to show he was listening to his sister, he answered her, if a bit absently.

“I thought it was Jack who was supposed to ask,” is what he said. 

Perhaps if he’d been paying attention to his sister properly, he’d have had more sense.  His sister did not take kindly to suggestions that boys were supposed to do things and girls weren’t.  She was surprisingly mild this morning, though, because all she said was, “What does it matter, as long as one of them does?”  Or perhaps she was distracted as well, because this was quickly followed by, “Oh look, there’s Aunt Jane!”

“Aunt Jane, Aunt Jane, I’m an elephant and I’ve a new ball, and I can do a trick, look!” called Georgie.

“But where is Uncle Jack?” Annabel wanted to know, because she’d had it in her head that they’d come together, with her aunt riding at his back or, perhaps, sitting in the basket like Georgie had done.  Really, her aunt was being very slow about Uncle Jack.  It was quite aggravating.  Annabel had already planned out what sort of dress she wanted to wear at the wedding.

Aunt Jane, being a good aunt, laughed at Georgie’s antics and called him a wonderful elephant and said she must buy him some peanuts if they happened to pass the peanut man on the way to their picnic.  Then she complimented John on how grown up he looked, and she sat down next to Annabel and informed her that Jack was coming from almost the opposite end of the world from her so of course they agreed to meet in the middle.

“Yes, but, if you lived together…” Annabel suggested, “It would be so much easier to come together, wouldn’t it?”

“And why should we live together?” Jane asked, just as though that was the most ridiculous suggestion in the world, and not common sense!

“After you marry Jack, you will have to, won’t you?” asked John, because Annabel had explained the situation to him quite thoroughly and he was surprised at his aunt’s ignorance.  “Where would your children live, if you weren’t together?”

For some reason, this made Aunt Jane turn a bit pink and all she would say was, “Enough of that, thank you.”  And then she was so fascinated in watching Georgie that it was almost impossible to talk with her.  “Not so close to the road, Georgie,” she called.  Georgie obediently moved closer to the steps.  For a while at least.

“It’s quite a quiet street,” John pointed out, but he knew it was hopeless to say so.  Grownups didn’t care how quiet a street was, they still seemed to expect high speed chases to occur at any moment.  Never mind that it was a lane, and rarely saw any more traffic than the milkman or the ice-cream man or their leerie; and the latter two pedaled rather than drove.

As he expected, his aunt took no notice at all, in fact, but started to ask all the usual aunt questions about school and how their father was and Ellen and if they’d been good, and if they’d had any good adventures lately, just as though she _hadn’t_ just seen them two days before.

And before they ran out of things to talk about, there was Jack at last.  Annabel and John called out “Jack!” and jumped up, and even Jane stood up again in what might have been called a jump and smiled and waved.

Jack smiled back and waved, riding one-handed which was a skill John was very keen to learn to do (Jack had promised to teach him, and perhaps the picnic would be the perfect time to start).  And Annabel and John and Jane were smiling and waving.  And Georgie waved too, and in his over-exuberance he lost his ball.

Georgie had, while Jane had talked with the other two, moved quite close to the street again.  The ball bounded right into the street this time, and Georgie leapt after it.

There was a car.  There was never a car in their quiet lane but this time there was.

Jane screamed, “Georgie!”  Perhaps they all screamed.  The car certainly did, screeching as it braked hard, and everyone could see that there wasn’t time, no time for Georgie to change direction, no time for the car to stop, no time for his brother and sister to reach him, no time for his aunt to save him, no _time_.

Georgie only just realized his own peril when something seemed to hit him as hard as a bat and sent him flying.  There was an impossibly loud BANG, an even worse crunch, and then everything went horribly still and silent.

For one long second, no one moved, everyone frozen in shock and horror, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

Then the driver swung his door open in a panic shouting “Who’d I hit?  Who’d I hit?” and Georgie sat up and burst into tears and Annabel and John ran to him.

Normally, his aunt would have him in her arms too, but nothing was normal in this situation, so she looked at her nephew with a confused mixture of gratitude and devastation, and then went past him.  To where Jack was lying in the street.

Later, Annabel would say she saw the whole thing quite clearly, but somehow she couldn’t see it properly at all.  She saw the bike, and how it was twisted beyond recognition.  It was the bike that had gone crunch, she supposed, when the car’s wheels had gone over it.  Somehow, the same wheels hadn’t gone over Jack.

Jack who had thrown Georgie out of the way just in time, only to take the full impact of the car himself.  Jack, who had hit the car hard enough to leave a dent, to shatter the windshield, and was now lying on the ground before the car, unmoving.

Annabel knew there was blood, because after the car and Jack were taken away, she saw the red on the pavement.  But when Jack was still lying there (so utterly still) something seemed to be wrong with her eyes, because she didn’t remember seeing blood, or the unnatural shape of his right leg.  She just remembered how still he was, and the look on her aunt Jane’s face when she screamed his name.  She sort of got the feeling that she wasn’t seeing what was there, but she knew something was horribly wrong.

“Oh God, did I kill him?  I didn’t see him!  I didn’t!” the driver was crying.  And if any of the Banks were inclined to be fair, the car, while moving faster than a lane warranted, hadn’t been moving at super great speed (as the policeman would later accuse) and Georgie _had_ run in front without looking, but it was hard to be fair after seeing Jack lying so still and Aunt Jane crying.

Michael ran out of the house almost directly after, his eyes wide in panic.  He’d clearly heard the accident, and he grabbed all three of his children, as though counting them, and then looked for the rest of his family.  And when he found them, he went quite pale.

“He’s not breathing!” Jane said, her voice high and panicked.  “Jack, you start breathing right this instance!”

This was not the medically advised way to resuscitate someone, but somehow in this instance it seemed to work, because Jack made a sort of gasping noise and then he _was_ breathing, and Jane was crying and looked like she wanted to grab Jack in her arms and somehow make the whole event un-happen.  Only she didn’t dare touch him, he looked so small and broken.

“Oh God,” said Michael, and then, “We need an ambulance.”

“I’ll get one!” Annabel cried, and she ran into the house for the phone.  Michael thought perhaps _he_ should be the one doing the calling, but all he could feel was grateful for his children (for his _three_ children; he hadn’t seen what had happened but somehow he knew how close it had been), and he didn’t want to leave his sister alone in the street.

“I didn’t mean to,” the driver kept saying, looking horrified and useless, and under any other circumstances Michael might have felt sorry for him.  Under the current circumstance, he couldn’t find it in him to care.  So instead of consoling the poor driver, he told John and Georgie to go inside and wait with their sister (because it finally occurred to him that they really shouldn’t be watching Uncle Jack dying in the street…possibly dying) and he went to his sister and to the man who was almost a brother.

Jack really didn’t look like Jack.  It wasn’t just the blood or the…the brokenness.  It was the stillness.  Jack wasn’t the sort of person to lie still.  If it weren’t for the horribly audible gasps of breath (and was that blood on his lips?), Michael would have been sure the man was dead.  He could hear his sister whispering to Jack, and when he got closer he could make out the words.

“Please, Jack, come back.  You can’t go.  I didn’t get to ask you, yet.  I didn’t get to ask.”

If Michael found it horrifying to see Jack like this, he didn’t want to imagine what Jane was feeling.  (He didn’t have to imagine; he _knew_ , and he wished with all his heart that she _didn’t_ ).

“Come on, Jack,” he said under his breath.  “Our family has lost enough.”

Michael didn’t dare touch Jack, didn’t know where to begin to make him better, so he took his sister in his arms and held her, and they waited for things to get better…or worse.

The ambulance came.  It seemed to take an hour, but later it would prove not to be anything near to that.  Some policemen came too (and the driver was rather unfortunate in that regard because they happened to know the Banks family, and were very fond of Georgie.  And they often pretended they didn’t care for Jack, but they were secretly very fond of him too).

In the end, the policemen got statements but didn’t arrest anyone (though they clearly _wanted_ to) and driver left and the car was towed (it was still drivable, but its driver didn’t feel up to it just then), and the mangled remains of the bicycle were moved to the front garden, but tiny bits of glass and the blood stains remained for ages.  They also found a scattered bunch of flowers while this was being done.  The flowers had been hiding under the car and were all crushed.  Annabel picked up the least broken one before it could blow away and put it in a vase. 

Annabel had the chance to do this because the children didn’t get to go with the ambulance.  They were left with Ellen, who tried to make biscuits to raise their spirits but was so distracted by her own shock over nearly losing Georgie and all that had happened that she made quite a mess of them and it was probably just as well that they burned, because there was a good chance they’d have come out poisonous to eat.

The children’s spirits refused to be raised in any case, and Georgie was sure that he’d killed Uncle Jack, and John said it was the horrible ball and Annabel said it was the horrible man in the car who didn’t know how to drive down quiet lanes.  She kept looking at her flower, and said, “It’s for Aunt Jane, I’m sure.  Jack wanted to give it to her.”  And she worried that it would die before they could pass it on.

If Michael had known just how badly his children were taking it, he’d have been devastated and would have gone to them at once, but he only knew they were upset because Jack was hurt, not that they were half convinced he was _dead_ and it was their fault.  And he _did_ know how his sister was taking it, and he stayed with her at the hospital while they waited for news.  He did wish his children could be there, wished with all his heart to have all three in his sight, in his arms, but he was trying to be a proper parent and keep them away from places like hospitals and better they play at home (as he imagined them doing) than wait for news and feed off the fear their father and aunt were feeling.

“Jack will be alright,” Michael told his sister, in what he hoped was a consoling tone.  “How am I supposed to thank him otherwise?”

Only it turned out Jack wasn’t alright at all, because when the news came, it wasn’t at all good.  On the other hand, it wasn’t the devastating news they’d feared.  He was alive.  For the moment.

His right leg was broken quite horribly, as it not only got the brunt of the impact but there’d been some trouble with the way his bicycle had been dragged one direction and his body in the other.  His right arm was broken as well, though not a bad break.  Ribs were cracked.  And his head had taken quite a hard knock.  He’d needed stitches for his head and wrapping for his ribs and a cast for his arm and his leg had to just about be rebuilt.  He was all over in bruises.

And he hadn’t woken up yet.

The doctor had not been able to say that he’d soon make a full recovery.  He said something more along the lines of ‘If he lives through the night, there’s a chance’.

They let Jane sit with him.  This might have had something to do with Michael telling the hospital that their patient’s name was Jack Banks.  Michael hadn’t meant to mislead; it had been an honest slip, because he was family, and they hadn’t bothered to correct the mistake.

Michael went home to the children in the end and told them that Uncle Jack was very badly hurt but he wasn’t dead.

“Is it my fault?” Georgie asked, tears in his eyes.

“No, of course not,” Michael had answered, and somehow all three of his children fit themselves against him on the sofa, and Ellen made another batch of biscuits that turned out better.

They had their picnic in the living room, because they did need to eat and it was all ready.  And the children were distracted for the moment by how funny it was to have a picnic indoors, because children are always ready to be distracted, but the gloom over the household never entirely lifted.

Then came the knock at the door, and Ellen answered it and told the young man standing there, clutching his hat nervously, that they were not interested.

“Sorry,” Michael and the children heard, “Only, I was wanting to…to enquire after Jack?  Only, he hasn’t done his rounds, and…and he wasn’t at his home, and he talks about this house quite a lot and his lady and…and there’s a bike in your front garden.  Or…what used to be a bike?”

And the speaker sounded like he was about to cry, and they all realized he must be one of Jack’s leerie friends and Michael jumped up to relieve Ellen and tell the young man what had happened.

Rather unfortunately, the children had the same idea and, being younger and more easily able to leap from sitting on the ground to standing, they got there first.  So by the time Michael got to the door, Georgie had started crying again and had already said, “I think Jack’s dead and it’s all my fault!”

“He’s not dead,” Michael tried to say, firmly and loudly because he could see all the blood draining from the poor leerie’s face, only Georgie did keep going on with, “I know what dead is because of Mother, and it’s lying all still and going away where we can’t see her anymore and she’s in the place where lost things go and Jack was all still and they took him away and we can’t see him and he’s dead and he saved me from the mean old car.” 

At least, that was the gist of what he said; his voice was a bit distorted from tears and it’s doubtful the leerie understood more than one word in ten; even Georgie’s own father had trouble following him.  And Michael had thought he’d reassured the children and they understood and all this time Georgie had kept this inside?  Of course Annabel and John were speaking too, Annabel to say that she didn’t think Jack was dead, and John to say it wasn’t Georgie’s fault either and something about how he should have been watching Georgie better.

“Children!” Michael had to shout in the end, and then they let the poor leerie sit on the sofa and Ellen went to get him some tea.  At least, she _said_ it was tea, but it seemed she made it too strong because the young leerie made a funny noise when he sipped it, then gave Ellen a thankful glance.

“Listen,” said Michael, and he had his children sit down too, and their Father sounded so gentle it hurt to hear it.  That was the same tone he’d used to explain about Mother.  “Jack is not dead.  I promise he isn’t.  I just came from seeing him and…and he is hurt, very hurt, but he isn’t dead.”

“Is he going to die?” Georgie wanted to know in a small voice.  Michael closed his eyes for a moment and resisted the urge to just take his children in his arms and say ‘no, of course not’ because he didn’t know that, and it wasn’t fair to make promises.

“We all die…one day.  Don’t we, Father?” said John, and how he could sound so wise and so impossibly young at the same time, Michael didn’t know, but he did.

“Excuse me, sir,” said the young leerie.  “Can I ask…what happened?”

The children started to tell him all at the same time and Michael quickly silenced them.

“He was hit by a car,” Michael said simply.  Then, because it had to be said, “He saved my son’s life.”  Then, “I’m sorry, we should have told one of you, but it slipped my mind.”  Then, when the silence had gone on for a bit, Michael said, “Sorry, but I can’t seem to remember your name…?”

“Fred,” answered the young man.  “I’ve known Jack just about my whole life.  He’s a couple of years older than me.  Like having a big brother.  I suppose he’s a big brother to everyone, isn’t he.  He…he saved your son’s life?”

“It was the wicked ball,” Georgie said.  “It rolled away in front of the car and Jack threw me and it hurt my knee.”

This was the first any of them had heard about Georgie’s knee.  The knee got rather more attention than it warranted at that point, but then, it was a relief to everyone to have a wound they could actually care for.

Michael used the distraction, once he was sure it was just a sore knee, to take Fred into the hallway and give him all the details about Jack, his condition, and which hospital he was at.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Michael said, feeling a bit embarrassed to have to admit it.  “If you go ask after him, ask for Jack Banks.”

“But I thought it was the lady who changes her name,” said a very confused Fred.

“There is no reason why the boy can’t be the one to change his name,” Annabel said in her severest tone (the children had not been quite as distracted as Michael had thought). 

Then Fred went on his way, still quite confused and worried, and Michael watched him go, feeling he’d let things get rather out of hand and wishing things were simpler.

Jane spent the night alone with Jack.  The doctor, under the impression that they were married and being unsure himself if the poor young man would live and not wanting to begrudge them what time they had left, allowed it.  The nurses, who knew at least half the story, that the patient had been hurt saving a young boy, were quick to offer a cot and blankets and tea and a sandwich for the young lady.  She barely touched the sandwich but did drink the tea and she used the blankets to make a sort of bed in the chair, where she could still see Jack even as her eyes drifted shut.

Of course she hadn’t meant to sleep at all, and when she did startle awake the next morning she was half terrified that Jack had died in the night and half convinced that everything had been a nightmare and Jack was fine.  Jack hadn’t died in the night, but he was far from fine.

That morning, Michael gave up on what good parents are supposed to do and took his children to the hospital.  They were beaten there, only just barely, by Fred and one of his friends, and the nurses were not at all pleased by the growing crowd, but when they came to understand that the little boy clinging to his giraffe was _the_ little boy, and Michael had whispered to them how badly the children needed to see for themselves that their uncle hadn’t died, like their mother (Michael was not above a bit of manipulation if the situation called for it, and anyway, it was _true_ ) they were all ushered in.

Jane was awake again, wrapped in a blanket and holding Fred’s hand while the other leerie stood, holding his hat and looking very out of place.  Jack lay unmoving in his bed.  Annabel solemnly placed her vase with the half crushed flower next to Jane.  Georgie tiptoed as close to Jack as he was allowed.

“Are you sure he isn’t dead?” he whispered, or at least, Georgie _thought_ it was a whisper.

“He’s sleeping,” Jane answered.

“But it’s daytime,” Georgie said.  Annabel and John shared a quiet look.  Mother had slept quite a lot during the day too…especially towards the end.  Georgie never had understood.

“His head got hit quite hard,” said Aunt Jane in what was meant to be an upbeat tone so as to console the children that everything was alright, but after a night in the hospital her tone was rather strained.  “I think his brain got rattled and now he’s lost inside there.”

“If he’s lost, perhaps we should shout for him and he can follow our voices,” Georgie suggested.

“Oh no, he needs quiet,” Jane tried to explain, which only confused Georgie more.  Michael spoke quietly with the doctor, and was rather more successful at whispers because none of the children heard what he said, only saw their father’s face at the doctor’s news, which was bad enough.

“Here,” said Fred, who, like Jane, had rallied a bit in the face of the children’s devastation, “Jack’s a fighter, he is.  He’ll be opening his eyes in no time.”

Only he didn’t.  Not that day.  And not the next.  And with each day, the doctor shook his head and started repeating that they might want to prepare themselves and get ready.

“Ready for what?” Annabel wanted to know, but her eyes were on the vase.  It was empty.  The flower had fallen to pieces in the end.

“Ready to say goodbye,” was an answer no one wanted to hear.  In fact, Georgie was so alarmed that he ran up to Jack and shouted in his ear, “Come back, Uncle Jack,” and would have said quite a bit more if his father hadn’t grabbed him and carried him away.

At least, he started to carry Georgie away.  Only he stopped when Annabel let out a startled sort of shriek (and then covered her mouth, because, unlike Georgie, she knew better).  Michael turned back again.

Jack hadn’t woken up.  That isn’t how real life works.  There are no sudden fluttering of eyes, then the patient sits up, smiles, and says something like ‘I had the strangest dream, I saw my mama and I saw Kate and she helped me find my way back’.

But Jack _did_ stir and he made a sort of noise, and Annabel swore later that he had opened his eyes and looked right at her, even though the doctor said he couldn’t possibly have done.

Then the doctor shooed them all out of the room and looked at his patient and this time while they waited for news, all the family together and the two leeries (there were always at least two leeries, even when Fred had to leave, others took his place).  It was much less horrible and much more hopeful waiting this time around, though the hope was almost as painful as the fear because they still didn’t _know_.

In the end, it took Jack three more days to wake up properly.  Oddly, the first truly coherent thing he said was, “Freddie, you lost your penguin.”  And that might have been really worrying, only Fred answered, “No I didn’t.  The dog got ahold of it, but I kept the buttons.  Why didn’t you tell us you’d gone and got married?”

“Did I?” was the confused response, which wasn’t helped when the doctor came in and said, “Mr. Banks, good to see you awake; I’d like to discuss your condition with you, if you’re up to it.”  And no one had the chance to explain without giving themselves away in front of the doctor.

“Are we married?” Jack asked Jane, quite some time later (he’d fallen back asleep after the doctor had been).  Jane turned rather pink.

“Not yet,” she answered.

“Oh.”  He sounded almost disappointed, but his expression soon brightened again.  “When are we getting married then?”

“Quite soon, I should hope,” Jane answered.  “Annabel has already planned out the dresses.”

It still took them months so that Jack could heal and there was a bit of time when Jack got sick and scared them all to death that he’d relapse and leave them after all, and his leg was quite bad and he never did lose the limp completely, but he did heal, and there was a wedding, and Annabel got to arrange the dresses and the flowers.

And almost a year later, they even finally went on that picnic together, as a family.  Because that is what they were.


End file.
